The Tales of Seamus

I sat in the garden this morning, Long after the new day was dawning, But my timing sublime, Something up in the sky, A picture that Nature was drawing: A bird of prey mobbed by a crow, Full two minutes I watched them go. Wheeling and striking, Reflexes like lightning, My God I do love them so. So I went on the internet  And researched bird of prey silhouettes. The crow was the bigger And that was the trigger; I know I'll never forget. Not the peregrine I dreamed of, But a sparrowhawk my eyes had gleaned In a white empty sky And oh me and oh my, What a wonderful sight I had seen.

Thou weightless puissant climber of the wheat, With skill, daring,  opposable feet, To grip the stem most firmly but what's this? Prehensile tail to curl around stems crisp. Your hind legs and your tail hold thee fast, Freeing your forelimbs to tight grasp, The seeds and insects that you gleeful eat, You're beautiful amongst the rustling wheat.

Oh my soul and oh my mind! I wish that fearsome wild beasts kind Would feast upon my heart unkind; Tear up the pulp, tear up the rind. I gaze upon my mirror soul. It mocks me saying, ‘two halves whole’, What crippling torment is this? My heart's blood gouts, my brain a-fizz With remonstrations and regret And misery which pays a debt Of hatred that my mind begets; A madness casting heavy nets Of loathing at my very core; I quake, I could not love you more.

Ah! what cry pierces the night, Turning my marrow to a wight's Calling, calling. Clad in green and grey Whilst I live she will not stay Her prophetic wailing, wailing. A doom is layed upon me, A doom I cannot shake, Would that a fierce heart beating  Her malice would slake. A half-moon is sailing, sailing. Ah! What cry pierces the night, I am falling, falling!

Dubh pecks the bones the moon provides, Flesh gleaned from every nightly tide Dubh pecks the eye from the dog fox corpse, Entangled in the hoary gorse Dubh dives into the Mirrored Mere, The Portal of the Feathered Seers. Dubh speeds the passage of the fallen, The spirit’s journey is his calling. An unkindness of sable Ravens Flock the bloody carrion field Returning to the Axis’ Wheel All that the dead can yield. Dubh feasts on flesh thus setting free, From mortal coils sweet liberty. Dubh pecks the eye from the dog fox corpse, Entangled in the hoary gorse. Dubh pecks the bones the moon provides, Flesh gleaned from every nightly tide.